


Rush to each other, rush to you

by ninemoons42



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Epistolary, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Music, Itch, Jewish Character, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/"><b>cottoncandy_bingo</b></a>. Prompt: itch. My card is <a href="http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/208216.html">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rush to each other, rush to you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**cottoncandy_bingo**](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). Prompt: itch. My card is [here](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/208216.html).

title: Rush to each other, rush to you  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
word count: approx. 1550  
fandom: X-Men: First Class [movieverse]  
characters: Charles Xavier, Erika Lehnsherr  
rating: PG  
notes: Written for [](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**cottoncandy_bingo**](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). Prompt: itch. My card is [here](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/208216.html).

  
Charles is sweeping crumbs off the table when Erika comes back with sandwiches and coffee, and he’s doodling aimlessly in the leatherbound journal that she gave him for Christmas.

She feels it as the iridium nib of his battered fountain pen travels across the thick paper; it’s easy to read his chickenscratch handwriting even when it’s upside down, and the list is amusing and easy to guess: _ten hours coop nonstop – have to beat A &A / eat all the pancakes and pass out and then do it again / something that isn’t coffee for a change / convince E to read_ Tale of Murasaki _– out loud / how long has it been since we’ve gone for a run?_

Erika eyes the table and eyes Charles’s heaps of books and reference materials, and gets up again to sit on his left side. It takes a few minutes before she can rearrange her blue books to her satisfaction, but when she does, it’s easy to lean on Charles’s shoulder and read her notes at the same time.

“You feel nice,” Charles mutters as he puts his free arm around her shoulders. “Even when we’re both grotty with ink and paper cuts and stale biscuit crumbs.”

“Ew,” she says, succinctly. “Also, speak for yourself. You’re the messy eater, not me.”

“I’m a genius, I’m busy, I’m not supposed to have the presence of mind to watch my table manners.”

She rolls her eyes as hard as she can. “Until very recently I knew someone who would smack you for being a pig at table.”

Charles sobers, and that makes her sigh, and she stretches a little so she can kiss him on his cheek.

“I know why you’re not properly in mourning, my dear,” he says, “and I completely understand you, I’m completely with you on that, but still. I miss your mother.”

“So do I,” Erika says. It’s been three weeks and five days since she and Charles sat shiva for Edie. She is no longer wearing her torn clothes, and Charles is no longer wearing his black arm band. Life has gone back to normal, for the most part, and they have talked about Edie only in terms of relief and moving on, but she still wakes up crying, sometimes, and Charles never asks her why and never asks what he can do to help. He just holds her close.

Which is too bad – though she doesn’t want to seem ungrateful – it’s just that Erika would welcome the distraction of any other topic just now. The end of term exams have done nicely to get their minds off the loss, but they’re on their last comprehensive [Erika] and research papers [Charles] and she’s not sure what they’re going to do once they get kicked out for the six weeks of vacation.

 _I have just the thing,_ Charles says, suddenly, in her head.

Erika carefully doesn’t move the rest of her body, but she does put her feet flat on the floor. Charles is brilliant with ideas, but he very occasionally has _terrible_ ones, and for those Erika’s first reaction is always to run far, far away - or at least to try.

“You’ll like this one, I promise.”

“Tell me first,” she says, and she is not prepared for the grin that lights him up, pale sallow skin and bags under his eyes and faded freckles and all – though she does have to reach up and rub the streak of ink leading down from his cheek to his mouth. “And then I’ll decide if I do like it.”

She’s not prepared for him to project the following images into her head: sunwarmed stone caught in multicolored light streaming through stained glass; cobblestones worn smooth by years of wooden sandals moving quickly up and down a narrow alley; cornmeal balls served with a rich beef stew made pungent with all kinds of spices and peppers.

“Traveling,” she whispers, and she starts to smile. _You’ve only been telling me about the itch in your feet for a while now. I like this idea, Charles. I like the places you’ve picked. Tell me more._

 _It’s going to be a bit of a whirlwind tour, I’m afraid, since I know you’ll want to get back in time to prepare for the next term – you’ve been looking forward to some of the subjects for a few months now. But yes, we’ve time, once the term’s over._ Charles smiles and kisses her temple. _I thought we’d try to pack in a few new experiences. You and me and a couple of backpacks. I’ll bring a blanket in case we get cold, maybe two. You’ll keep me awake on the long flights. We’ll eat and run and hold hands and take pictures. And we can leave on the last day of term. Say you’ll come with me, Erika._

“Tell me the names,” Erika says.

Charles nods and lets her take his pen, and she turns his journal toward her and writes the words he says in her head: Barcelona, Kyoto, Mombasa. _You are weaving a magical spell around me, Charles Xavier._

_Is it working, Erika Lehnsherr?_

She smiles. “Yes, very much so.” She puts the pen down and kisses him, sweet and slow. “I expect you’ll want me to dig out our passports?”

Charles goes red, but he’s smiling as he does so. “Actually I might have asked Hank and Ororo to help me with that?”

“Confident.” Erika pokes a finger into his ribs and grins when it makes him not-quite-squeak.

“Not really; I’ve been half-expecting you to tell me no, because you’d rather stay here, so you can visit her.”

“I will visit her, but I don’t think she’d want me hanging around very much or very often.”

Charles smiles at that. “I think I’d agree with her in this case.”

“You would,” Erika says, and she holds out her arms for a hug. He is warm and strong and real in her grasp. “Let’s do this traveling thing, then.”

///

_[On the reverse side of a card with a view of Casa Battló. The postmark reads “l’Eixample, Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain”.]_

_Dear Ororo,_

_As it turns out, the secret ingredient for a killer plate of churros is cinnamon and a very, very small pinch of dried powdered chili pepper. I’ll leave it to Hank and Charles to figure out which type, at least after Charles is done sputtering over his cup of hot chocolate._

_It’s very sunny and very cold here at the same time; we’re not going to be doing any swimming here. There are a lot of fine singers on every street corner, it seems. Charles has convinced me to attend a Roman Catholic service at Sagrada Família before we leave._

_We are well._

_Erika_

///

_[Enclosed with a photograph printed out on glossy paper. The envelope is vertically oriented, and across the flap is the Japanese character メ .]_

_Dear Hank,_

_If you could just kindly hide this particular photograph somewhere safe until I can come to get it from you. It’s the only one I managed to save from the time when I convinced Erika to try on a kimono outfit. She deleted the rest! I feel betrayed._

_I have to admit I wasn’t expecting her to look so damn good in this color combination. They call a crimson-and-purple color combination “Redblossom Plum” here. Anyway, like I said, please save this for me. I’ll pay you back somehow._

_We spent a lot of money on that dinner engagement last night, but it was worth every damn penny. I’m not going to forget that song soon; go look it up if you’re interested. It’s called “Gion Kouta”._

_Hope you’re enjoying the break._

_Charles_

///

 _[Airmail paper carefully folded into thirds, lying at the foot of a small headstone marked_ Edie Lehnsherr _. The address is written in one hand and the text of the letter itself in another.]_

_Mama,_

_Charles and I are looking out over Kilindini Harbour in Mombasa, Kenya, and we are thinking about you at the sunset. This is a beautiful place though a little bit smoky and a lot salty, but that’s not really a surprise considering it overlooks the Indian Ocean. You’d like it here; it feels like the city doesn’t sleep and there are so many languages being spoken, it all runs together into a strange kind of music._

_We will probably be here for another week or so. Charles wants to work on his tan [not that he can, actually, I’m just having fun watching him moan over his freckles] and I want to rent a motorbike and drive through the city and its suburbs._

_Oh, and don’t tell Charles, but I’m glad he caught the travel bug. We’re going to do this again after next term, and the next, and the next, I think. And I wouldn’t put it past him to just keep going. I think I’ll let him – after all, you and Papa did the same._

_I love you. I miss you. Sleep well. We’ll see you soon._

_Erika_   



End file.
